


indicative of something?

by areyoufeelingalice



Category: Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead - Stoppard
Genre: Guil's thoughts, M/M, Pining, scribbling in the margins of the text
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoufeelingalice/pseuds/areyoufeelingalice
Summary: Guil was betting with Ros, on the toss of a coin.Betting with himself.So much depended on that coin. Too much?Thinking a lot. Too much?Balancing between panic and philosophy, definitely confused.
Relationships: Guildenstern/Rosencrantz (Hamlet)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	indicative of something?

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out quite different than planned. Also longer. I make fairly extensive use of the original text as I’m scribbling in its margins, filling the silences between the loud words out with silent ones. Or not. There is power in the silences. Not sure if you can always tell who’s speaking. I hope it’s not too confusing.

“Heads.”

Forty-Five.

“Heads.”

Guil was betting with Ros.

“Heads.”

But more importantly, Guil was betting with himself.

“Heads.”

Everything depended on the coin toss.  
That would decide his fate.

“Heads.”

If it were tails, then he would do it.  
Tell him.  
Hold his hand.

(Kiss him.)

“Heads.”

He would. 

“Heads.”

Well, it had to be tails at some point.

“Heads.”

That’s what he depended upon.  
That’s what his life depended upon. Or at least that’s how it felt.

Really, it shouldn’t matter all that much.

But to Guil it did.  
More than anything.

“Heads.”

Heads or tails. That’s what this game build on. (Was it a game?)  
There is math behind it, there is logic.

That’s why Guil liked it. And liked putting his fate on.

It was a natural principle.  
A mathematical factor deciding the outcome. 

It would be tails sooner or later.

“Heads.”

It HAD TO be tails at some point.

“Heads.”

Guil needed it to be tails.

“Heads.”

To build up the courage.  
He’d promised himself.  
He would do it.  
As soon as it’s tails. 

Because then luck would be on his side. Then all would be well. Fate.  
It was only a matter of time.

“Heads.”

Tails.  
Please.  
For Guil.  
For _Ros_ , in the long run.  
Tails, just once.

“Heads.”

Still.

“Heads.”

A continuous, unstoppable run of heads had to be indicative of something. That sort of thing doesn’t just happen. 

Maybe luck wasn’t on his side, even against him?

“Heads.”

Maybe it was a sign.  
Something, somewhere, somehow, warning him.

Maybe he shouldn’t do anything?

“Heads.”

Don’t do it don’t tell him.  
What if the universe was trying to tell him that?

Maybe it would be bad to tell him.  
Bad consequences.  
Bad things to happen, wheels set in motion, not to be stopped. 

“Heads.”

Maybe it was better left unsaid, there were the other things no one should say.  
All the world’s a stage, after all.

Words are all they’ve got to go on, after all.

“Heads.” 

What if it’s the wrong wheels he set in motion? Downhill, off stage, the forest towards you. Here one minute, gone the next, and never coming back.

So maybe it should just stay subtext.  
Don’t speak, don’t move.  
Don’t take action.

“Heads.”

Again.  
Clearly, this was a sign against.  
Bad things WOULD happen.

“Heads.”

No, no, that can’t be.  
Pure superstition.  
There was no power offstage, directing his fate and writing the bigger picture.

Guil wasn’t going to let that himself be hanged by that.

Waiting for tails was just a gimmick, just a trick to build up courage.

“Heads.”

No bad connection there, no sign. That can’t be. 

Just a coin toss.  
It’s science. Probability.

“Heads.”

But what if—  
…  
No.

He’d promised himself.  
Tails and he would tell him.

“Heads.”

Tails had to come.  
That was only logical.

“Heads.”

Logic. Yes, that’s how to look at it.  
Science. The law of probability.

“Heads.”

Tails was inevitable.

This was just the prologue.

Making the eventual tails even more spectacular.

This was just the before.

“Heads.”

Until tails would come.  
And he’ll tell him.

“Heads.”

Yes, yes, he would. 

“Heads.”

Just the prologue.

“Heads.” 

“There’s an art to the building up of suspense.” 

///

“Eighty-five in a row—beaten the record.”

Ros sounded smug. He’s happy.  
But Guil doesn’t have eyes for that right now.

“Is that it, then? Is that all? A new record. Is that as far as you’re prepared to go?” 

Because that’s not where Guil wants this to go.

///

“Perhaps…you, alone…”

Guil could hear his heart beat loudly. He held out his hand.

“Touch.”

Ros grabbed it.  
He pulled him up. Ignoring his own, loud, fast beating heart. His racing thoughts. His heavy breathing.  
Ros. Close. To his hand, to his heart.

“We have been spinning coins together since—”

His mind went blank.  
He let him go, quickly, too quickly, too violently. 

/// 

“I’m sorry I—What’s the matter with you?” 

Ros was irritated.  
Great, now he had confused _him_ too.  
Ros was the happier of the two of them. Carefree, not as caught up in swindling thoughts. That’s what he loved about him, after all.

“The scientific approach to the examination of phenomena is a defence against the pure emotion of fear. Keep tight hold and continue while there’s time.” 

Logic. No fear. Always heads, this has to be normal.  
No signs, no prophecy, nothing supernatural.

/// 

“Fear! The crack that might flood your brain with light.”

“Heads.”

Heads. Heads. Heads.  
No avail.  
No tricks. 

“I’m afraid—”

“So am I.”

So he was.  
So much.  
Ros didn’t have a clue how much.  
Or what about.

///

“Eighty-nine.”

“It must be indicative of something.” 

A sign?

“List of possible explanations. / One. I’m willing it. / Three. Divine intervention.”

Intervention. A sign?

/// 

“Halt! An audience! Don’t move! Perfect!” 

Scottish accent.  
That rang a bell in Guil’s head. Something, there was something with Scottish, but he’d forgotten what.  
Can’t have been important. 

“A lucky thing we came along.”

Luck.  
What even was luck? Was there a logic behind it?

Did that work properly right now? Did that apply here?

Lucky for whom?  
Guil didn’t know.  
But Guil knew that he wasn’t so sure he believed in luck right now.  
A rigged principle. 

/// 

“I say—that was lucky.” 

“What?” 

“It was tails.” 

Guil’s eyes widened. 

/// 

///

“What was it?”

“What?”

“Heads or tails?”

“Oh. I didn’t look.”

///

“We’re still finding our feet.”

“I should concentrate on not losing your heads.”

Heads…  
Lose the heads.  
But it’d already been tails after all. Once, once at least. Or wasn’t it?  
Heads.  
Their heads?  
Why would they lose them?  
They didn’t harm anyone, they didn’t do anything.  
They just wanted to be. Exist, or something.

“Do you speak from knowledge?”

“Precedent.”

///

“You remember that coin?”

“No.”  
Yes.

“I think I lost it.”

No?!  
Stop, be calm.  
It is just a coin, a thing, of nothing, not indicative of anything, no, it can’t. (can it?)

“What coin?”

“I don’t remember exactly.”  
Guil did.

///

“Well, at last we’re getting somewhere.”

Back to the beginning.  
Let’s just stay where we are, right now.  
Don’t move. 

Ros next to him. Five, no, two feet apart, but warm.

That has to be the right thing. No harm done.  
No more relying on coin tosses.

///

“Unless we’re off course.”

Unless they weren’t. 

They were moving. For good or bad, who knew.  
Guil was there with Ros.  
Wasn’t that enough?

Contained, on a ship.  
Confining his thoughts. Don’t let them roam so freely.

///

Ros came to him. Smiling brightly.  
Holding out both hands.  
Guil reaches out.  
Finds a coin.  
His heart warms. But—

Repeat.

Luck?  
That feels wrong, suspicious. Too much. Not to be trusted.  
Too much.  
What was wrong with him?  
Why can’t he trust in anything good anymore?

“You had money in both hands?” / “What’s the point in that?”

“I wanted to make you happy.”

Then why can’t he trust in happy anymore?

///

“There may be something in the text to keep us going for a bit.”

Guil had to stay strong. For Ros.

“And if not?”

“Then that’s it—we’re finished.”

“At a loose end?”

“Yes.”

Guil could see Ros thinking. His forehead scrunched adorably.  
It almost made Guil smile.

“Are there likely to be loose ends?”

Almost.

Guil wished he could answer.

A pause followed.

///

“But then what’s the point?”

Ros sounded desperate.  
Something Guil could understand very well.

“Don’t apply logic.” 

Clearly hadn’t worked for him.

“He’s done nothing to us.”

Exactly. But Guil wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

“Or justice.”

Or was it? Guil wasn’t so sure.

///

“What do you make of it so far?”

The player was back. Why?

Guil felt like they were going in circles.  
Back to the first act. Back to the beginning, again. A circle, endless?

“We haven’t got much to go on.”

See? Like in the beginning.  
Never, never much to go on.  
Fill in the margins, the pauses between the speeches.

///

“Where we went wrong was getting on a boat.”

So much could change in a few words.  
Words. All they’ve got to go on.  
Always.

“Who’d have thought that we were so important?”

Ros had always been important. To him. Always.  
But what did that matter now.

///

“What was it all about? When did it begin?”

Guil couldn’t look at Ros anymore.  
He was there, next to him. That had to be enough.

“We didn’t harm anyone. Did we?”

Guil couldn’t say anymore.  
Did they?  
Everything was a blur.

///

Where did they go wrong.  
What did they miss. Did they miss it.  
The moment of change.  
Of truth.  
For action.  
Had there been one?

“Rosen—”

Alone.

“Guil—”

Alone.  
Alone.

Had they learned from this?  
What did he mean by _this_.  
How could he say.

His heart was beating, still.  
Normally. 

Ros.

“Now you see me, now you—"


End file.
